If I Fell
by wolfish-willow
Summary: For ladyoneill's prompt: During the apocalypse, Gabriel's signed up with Team Free Will and spends his time mocking Dean and trying to seduce Sam with satin sheets, banana splits, and cheesy music. Written for the spn gabriel sam fic exchange over on LJ.


**Title:** If I Fell  
**Author:** **wolfish_willow**  
**Pairing:** Sam/Gabriel, implied Dean/Cas  
**Rating:** R/NC-17  
**Genre:** schmoop, humor, Sam-angst(of the ridiculous variety)  
**Spoilers:** Season 5, though nothing specific  
**Warnings:** none, really. Unless you count slightly whiny!Sam  
**Word Count:** ~6700  
**Disclaimer:** Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.

**Summary/Prompt:** For **ladyoneill**'s prompt: _During the apocalypse, Gabriel's signed up with Team Free Will and spends his time mocking Dean and trying to seduce Sam with satin sheets, banana splits, and cheesy music._ I _did_ manage to work in reluctant!Sam, whew. Written for the **spn_gabriel_sam** fic exchange over on LJ.

**A/N 1:** beta'd by the ever amazing **ladyeternal**. Thanks so much, bb! Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
**A/N 2:** Um, I set out to write a bit of angst with this (seriously, my friends grew sick of my whining over trying to make it so), but it turned out to be more schmoopy than anything else. I apologize for its lack of angst. Also, I love Dean, but he refused to cooperate when I tried to get them to mock each other...  
**A/N 3:** Title taken from If I Fell, from Across the Universe, as suggested by **priceless_pixie**.

Gabriel doesn't understand humans. No, scratch that. Gabriel doesn't understand Winchesters.

More specifically, he doesn't understand Sam Winchester. The man doesn't make any sense at all. Gabriel gets it: he was a bad guy for a while (okay, more than awhile). But he'd put being the Trickster aside for him. He's an honorary member of Team Free Will now (much to the chagrin of the Winchesters); shouldn't that count for something? Gabriel had been sure that if anyone of their dysfunctional (rag tag) little group would be a bit more accepting, that person would be Sam. He was the one who'd gone to a Trickster for help in the first place. Gabriel thought him offering his help in ending this Apocalypse would earn him some brownie points with the youngest Winchester. But Sam just looks at him, not even trying to disguise the suspicion and distrust behind his eyes. And that hurts more than Gabriel had imagined it could have.

That isn't enough to deter him, though. He's got some fool-proof plans up his sleeve. He's going to bring Sam Winchester around soon enough.

Sam doesn't really know what to think about Gabriel suddenly deciding to join Team Free Will in their fight against Heaven and Hell. What he does know is that he doesn't trust the Trickster-turned-Archangel.

Sam's sitting across from Dean in yet another small town diner, trying to convince his brother that this hunt is worth checking out. Just because they're dealing with the Apocalypse does _not_ mean that they should ignore any vengeful spirits they come across. Of course, Dean doesn't seem to think that way, and isn't listening to anything Sam says.

"Come on, Dean. We can't just leave knowing this spirit's killing people."

Dean sighs as he sets his fork beside his half-eaten slice of pie. Sam shifts back in his seat slightly, hoping to prepare himself for whatever his brother might say. Sam's heard it all before really: how he should realize that the Apocalypse (that he jumpstarted, Sam knows how to read between the lines) is more important than dealing with vengeful spirits. Never mind that people are dying here; just hope that some other hunters catch wind of what's going on and leave it be. But Sam is sick of hearing about this. They've got two angels on their team now, even if Castiel is still falling, and they can afford to spend a little time and effort fixing this town's problem. He may not trust Gabriel, but he's still a part of their team for now. He can help Castiel with the Apocalypse stuff right now while they salt and burn a couple bones.

"Sam, I get it. There's something going on here. And we could stop it. But right now we need to focus on the bigger picture. Someone else will hear about the ghost and come stop it. If it's that big a deal, we can always call Bobby and have him get the word out to people. We've got more important things to deal with right now."

Dean goes back to eating his pie while Sam sighs and rests his elbow on the weathered looking table between them. If Dean really doesn't want to deal with helping these people then Sam will just go out and find the body himself. Just a bit of research on the side while Dean showers or makes cow eyes at Castiel, and he'll go to whatever cemetery the body's buried at and take care of it. Of course his brother will probably be just as upset as ever because the whole plan involves Sam sneaking out on his own again, possibly keeping yet another secret - and really? This Apocalypse just won't stop causing them problems.

Sam's still sitting across from Dean, watching his brother eat, and feeling more than a little down and helpless over everything when he hears a paint _pop_. He looks down in front of him to see a huge banana split - complete with three huge scoops of ice cream, topped with three different kinds of sauces, covered in chopped peanuts and a pile of whipped cream topped with a cherry, a half slice of banana on each side - on the table in front of him, where he's pretty sure there was nothing before. From the wide-eyed look Dean has adopted, Sam thinks he is probably right about that.

Normally Sam would love a banana split. Especially with the angst-fest he's currently throwing in his mind. But he is pretty sure he knows where this one came from and Sam wants nothing to do with him and whatever trick the archangel is trying to pull now. Sighing, Sam slides out of the booth.

"I'm heading back to the motel. See you later..."

At the question he sees on his brother's face, Sam just rolls his eyes and pushes the ice cream treat across the table.

"Help yourself."

As Sam walks out of the diner and back in the direction of the motel, he doesn't see the pouting Archangel-turned-Trickster watching forlornly as Dean enthusiastically digs in.

"Go away, Gabriel."

Sam doesn't even bother looking up, he knows Gabriel is standing on the other side of the grave he just crawled out of. He just tosses the salt and oil into the hole before pulling a packet of matches out of his pocket.

"Don't be like that, Sammy- "

"It's Sam," the hunter cuts Gabriel off as he lights the matches and drops them into the grave. Wild flames engulf the remains in the coffin and send up a wave of smoke. That's the part he's always hated the most about salt-and-burns: the smell. It stays on him, smoke clinging to his clothes and hair and skin just as stubbornly as the dirt from the graves. He can't wait to get out of these clothes and into a shower. Preferably a hot shower, not that he could really be picky in the dumps they always seemed to stay at. Hopefully Dean left him some hot water.

The sound of paper crinkling brings Sam's mind back to the present and, more specifically, to the former-Trickster who won't seem to leave him alone. Gabriel is still standing on the other side of the grave, which is thankfully nearly finished burning through, and munching contentedly on a Snicker's bar. Sam can't stop from rolling his eyes before he picks up the shovel at his feet and starts refilling the grave.

"You look like you could use some help there, Sammy."

Sam sighs and looks at the archangel through his bangs while dropping another shovel-full of dirt back into the hole.

"You know, you're right Gabriel. And you wanna know how you can help me? Leave me alone. Go bother one of your illusions or something, alright? I'm a little busy right now."

"Keep talking like that and I'm gonna start thinking you don't like me."

Sam just glared at Gabriel, never slowing in his task. Why did the angel feel the need to bother him tonight? It isn't bad enough that Dean refused to help him on this one, no. Now he's got to deal with the archangel Gabriel, who only months ago turned him into a car. Sam is aware that he let Lucifer out of his cage, but wasn't having to fight both Heaven and Hell punishment enough? At the sound of footsteps coming closer and more crinkling of a candy bar wrapper, Sam's conclusion is that no, apparently it wasn't enough.

Well, the Trickster can walk around here if he wants. That doesn't mean Sam has to acknowledge him. Sam doesn't even glance Gabriel's way when he feels the angel stop beside him. His eyes stay fixed on the dirt he's shoveling and the grave that is slowly filling up.

He loses his balance slightly when he goes to shovel more dirt, only to find that the pile of it is no longer there. The shovel keeps going until Sam loses his footing slightly. Luckily he catches himself before face-planting in front of Gabriel - Sam thinks he'd almost rather fall flat in front of Lucifer than Gabriel in that moment.

When Sam is sure he won't fall down, he turns to look at what had been a near-empty plot in front of him, now filled to the top and covered neatly with grass. It looks completely untouched, like Sam was never even there. There's only one person around who could have filled the grave in a split second like that and Sam is pretty sure he's going to end up glaring more at Gabriel than he ever has at Dean. He turns to find the archangel smirking in his direction and scowls, turning his gaze back to the grave in front of him.

"Should I be expecting some sort of zombie attack right about now?" he asks, picking up the few supplies he came with. The oil can feels light in his hands and he tells himself to remember to pick some more up on their next supply run. Sam looks over his other items - the salt canister, shovel, and extra pack of matches - but nothing else needs replacing.

"Don't give me ideas, Sammy."

Gabriel speaking shakes Sam out of his musings and he rolls his eyes.

"It's Sam."

Holding the salt and shovel, matches stowed safely in his jeans pocket, Sam turns and makes his way out of the cemetery, and hopefully as far away from Gabriel as he can get.

Sam isn't really listening to what Dean's telling him. His brother never says what he means anymore anyways. While he tells Sam that he and Castiel are going to pick up some supplies they've been running low on, he's actually saying that he and Castiel are going to find some place a bit nicer than the motel room they've already rented to spend time together (Sam doesn't really want to think about how they use that time) and Sam's not invited. Which, really, wouldn't be so horrible considering he has a pretty good idea what they're getting up to on their own and that is not something he would _ever_ join in on. But then his brother has to finish up his lame excuse for not wanting to spend time with his brother with: "Hang out with Gabriel. I'm sure the two of you can figure out how to pass the time."

And to make it worse, Dean always finishes with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. No one could blame Sam if one day he loses the ability to resist wiping the look off his brother's face. With his fist.

But Sam doesn't let himself react, because Dean just wants to get a rise out of him. And Sam isn't in the mood to cater to his brother. His brother who is abandoning him to go off and play footsie with a clueless, trench coat wearing angel who is hopelessly in love with the man. He just nods and smiles before opening the door and stepping out of the Impala, barely resisting the urge to shut the door with any more force than is necessary. But Sam really isn't in the mood to get some lecture about how to treat Dean's girl with respect, so he just waves his brother off and makes his way to his motel room.

Music coming from inside the room has Sam pausing before turning the key in the lock. He holds his breath in anticipation for what he's going to find and slowly opens the door in front of him. When he steps into the room, Sam isn't able to keep his jaw from dropping slightly, mouth hanging open as he takes in the sight of Gabriel strutting – actually _strutting_ – around the room to what Sam is 90% sure is _Sexy Back_ by Justin Timberlake. And Sam doesn't know which urge is stronger: laughing until he is no longer able to breathe or running and hiding in the bathroom. When Gabriel turns, head held high and chest puffed out – like some poor imitation of a rooster trying to be sexy – and _winks_ at him, all he can do is back out of the room slowly, close the door and walk briskly in the direction of the library. It's bound to be safer to wait for Dean there than anywhere near the obviously-insane archangel.

Sam looks at the book in his hand, desperately trying to pay attention to the words on the page. He's read the same paragraph ten times now, and none of it is sinking in. The library is fairly empty, which is exactly what Sam needs right now. It means he doesn't have to worry about where he wants to sit. No one will try to talk to him about whatever book he happens to be reading. The air around him is buzzing with that quiet hush libraries are always filled with. Normally just sitting in the quiet of any treasury of books is enough to calm Sam's mind and let him focus on the job at hand. Unfortunately, there is nothing else for him to put his focus into. They don't have any new hunts to research and they haven't heard anything Apocalypse-related in weeks. And so, his mind keeps replaying the day's events, much to his dissatisfaction.

Yet another day getting the brush off from Dean. And maybe he deserved it; he's certainly walked out on Dean enough times to warrant it. But that didn't stop it from hurting then – doesn't keep it from hurting now. Especially when Dean leaves him behind to spend time with his angel. Sam's tried not to be jealous, he really has. But it's hard. His brother has someone else to rely on, to talk to through this whole apocalyptic mess. Castiel once admitted to being Sam's friend, but they don't share the connection he's seen between Dean and Cas. Which is perfectly fine with Sam, really. But Sam only has Dean, and now Dean can't wait to be rid of him as often as possible.

Then there's Gabriel, who seems intent on messing with Sam at every opportunity. He doesn't know how he's supposed to take him. Dean and Gabriel seem to get on fine, which Sam supposes isn't all that surprising considering Dean always thought the Trickster had "style" and doesn't actually have any memory of being killed over a hundred times. But it's still strange listening to them snark, snipe, banter, and trade insults back and forth like they've been doing it forever, like he and Dean used to do back before Heaven and Hell decided the Winchesters made a great pair of pawns to manipulate.

Sam sighs and closes the book he's barely even looked at in the past hour. It makes a soft _thump_ sound when it lands on the table in front of him, but Sam isn't paying attention to it. He closes his eyes and his mind is bombarded with images of Gabriel strutting around his motel room. For an angel who has been around for millennia, Gabriel is not much of a dancer, if that performance is anything to go by. Sam had gotten out of there as fast as he could, afraid that the archangel might try getting Sam to join in. He wouldn't put it past the angel. Especially considering how much Gabriel seems determined to screw with him.

But Sam doesn't want to think about Gabriel right now.

Of course, that's never stopped him before. Why start now?

He can't figure out Gabriel's end game. Sam had been spending a lot more time with Gabriel since Team Free Will gained him as a member and the archangel hasn't made one iota of sense since he joined up. Sam doesn't know how to take Gabriel's frequent offers of help. Mostly, he's just waiting for the Trickster to make himself known once again. Because there is no way that Gabriel can just _quit_ being the pagan god he'd proclaimed himself to be for thousands of years. That doesn't just _go away_.

Sam plans on being prepared for when the other shoe drops, for when they no longer have to deal with an obnoxious, cocky archangel. Then at least when Sam gets left behind, he won't have to worry about being witness to Gabriel's apparent love for Justin Timberlake.

The wood feels cool against Sam's forehead as he rests it against the table. Sam can't wait to go to sleep tonight. He won't have to think about anything for at least a few hours before they head out on the road again. Gabriel tends to just snap his way to them when they've arrived at their destination, and that's something Sam is counting on tomorrow.

And once again, the archangel has somehow invaded his thoughts. But Sam refuses to think about the former Trickster. He pointedly does _not_ think about the cocky smiles Gabriel always seems to send his way, or the smooth sway of the angel's hips during his ridiculous strut in the motel room. Nor does he think about that stupid _wink_ that certainly did _not_ cause butterflies to rage in his stomach for some unnamable reason.

All this _not_ thinking is giving him a headache.

"How is it we're related again?" Dean asks, face scrunching up with distaste. Sam looks up at his brother to see Dean eyeing his salad with disdain.

Sam rolls his eyes and stuffs another forkful of his Cobb salad into his mouth.

"If I'm forced to watch you eat that," Sam starts after he's finished swallowing; pointing to the heart-attack-on-a-bun Dean's currently munching on, "Then you can deal with this. It's not like I'm trying to make you eat your veggies."

Dean just keeps staring at the lettuce like he expects it to jump out at him. Sam huffs and sits back in his seat, popping a tomato into his mouth for something to do. The diner they're in this time isn't as bad as some of the places they've eaten in. When they got here, Sam was pleasantly surprised to see the variety of salads they offered. And they even had some bacon and cheese covered concoction that Sam is pretty sure is supposed to be a cheeseburger. He can feel his arteries clogging just looking at the thing.

It's been nice, he thinks, sitting in this diner with his brother. No Castiel around to steal Dean's attention. No Gabriel and his weird obsession with horrible music about how _awesome_ he is. Just Sam and Dean, making fun of each other's eating habits. Sam's having a great time. So of course he's got to somehow screw it up.

"So where's Gabriel?"

Sam looks up and arches his brow in question. When Dean just stares back at him expectantly, Sam snorts, "How the hell should I know?"

"I dunno. You guys just seem to be spending a lot of time together." Dean shrugs and takes a bite of his burger.

Sam barely refrains from rolling his eyes a second time in a matter of ten minutes. Just barely.

"Not like I've had much of a choice, right?

Sam watches Dean finish off the last of his burger. His brother looks less than happy now. He probably shouldn't have said anything.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

And Sam really doesn't mean to answer his brother. His plan originally is to mutter some bullshit answer and go back to his salad. But he can't seem to stop the words from slipping past his lips.

"Oh please, Dean. Don't play dumb. You've been ditching me to run off with your angel every day for months. I'm not an idiot."

"I have not been ditching you, Sam. It isn't a crime to go out once in a while."

Sam sighs and looks down at his half eaten salad. He sets his fork down on the plate, his appetite having left him the moment they started this conversation.

"Fine, maybe you're not ditching me. But it still sucks to be left _alone_ all the time, Dean."

He hears his brother make some incredulous sound but refuses to look up at him right now.

"You're not _alone_, Sam. You've got Gabriel – "

Sam scoffs and doesn't resist the urge to roll his eyes this time.

"'Cause he's just so awesome, right?"

"Okay, what's your problem? You're the one who wanted his help in first place, remember?"

Sam shakes his head and looks back up at Dean, who is staring back at Sam like he's never seen him before.

"Yeah, and you were right then. We shouldn't have gone after him. We should have just – "

"Sam, are you even listening to yourself? We've got an _archangel_ fighting on _our_ side. An archangel who has been pretty damn helpful already. I'm not seeing the problem here."

Sam's had just about enough of this. He'd been having a good meal with his brother only minutes before. How on earth is he able to mess things up this badly, so fast?

"No, I guess you wouldn't. That couldn't possibly have anything to do with the amount of time you spend as far away as you can get."

He knows that won't make this any better. That he is just making everything harder on himself, making the situation worse. But Sam's pissed off and hurt and acting like a brat just seems like the thing to do right now.

"We did not just go full circle here, did we Sam? Because it's getting a little old."

"I'm just tired of you leaving, Dean.."

Dean shakes his head, lips turned down to a frown. He's glaring at Sam, and it's a really good thing that looks _can't_ kill or Sam would be dead. Or at least seriously injured.

"Like you really have room to talk, Sam," Dean says, standing up from his seat. He shrugs into his jacket with quick, jerky movements and throws some cash on the table. He turns and starts towards the exit.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

Dean turns back for a moment and glares at Sam some more – and Sam is starting to feel a lot smaller than any six foot, four inch tall man should feel.

"I'm leaving Sam. Thought you might have recognized the gesture."

And with that, Dean turns back around and storms out of the diner, leaving a dejected Sam behind.

"Stupid…" Sam mutters to himself, burying his face in his hands. He exhales a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his hair. Why couldn't he have left well enough alone? It had been a good day. Even if Dean had been planning on going out again, and Sam is sure that his brother won't be at the motel when he gets there now, it wouldn't have been so bad. Because he could have at least looked back and been happy with the knowledge that they'd finally spent a day together without fighting. Only Sam had to ruin that. So here he is, sitting alone in a booth with a half-eaten salad in front of him and a day of nothing pleasant to look forward to. Maybe he can just sleep through the rest of the Apocalypse…

A familiar snap brings him out of his dismal thoughts and he lifts his head out of his hands. Across from him, where Dean left an empty space, Gabriel is sitting and looking at him with what Sam would swear is a reassuring smile. The faint sound of scraping draws his eyes a little lower to something he hadn't noticed before. Gabriel slides a banana split with everything on it, just like he'd seen after the last fight with Dean, to his side of the table. Apparently the archangel already got rid of his salad plate. Sam looks from the split to Gabriel and back again, lips twitching up slightly at the corners.

Sam picks up the spoon he'd left unused on his napkin from dinner and offers a small, grateful smile to Gabriel as thanks, choosing to ignore those newly ever-present butterflies fluttering in his gut. Gabriel smiles back, grinning wider than Sam's seen before, and it doesn't worry him like he thinks it should. Sam thinks, as he shoves a spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, that he's going to find a way to apologize to Dean for being such a jerk. His brother really isn't doing anything wrong. Sam was just being moody. And now that he's got something to cheer him up, he realizes that he wasn't being fair. So, yes, Sam is going to tell Dean he's sorry. Right after he finishes his awesome banana split.

The way Gabriel's smile turns smug, Sam thinks that the angel may have been listening in on his thoughts. But this time around he'll let the angel get away with it. He's not ashamed to admit, just this once, how awesome Gabriel is. And the ice cream's not too bad either.

Gabriel snaps his way into the latest in crappy room at the latest crap motel that the Winchester's insist on staying in every week and looks around hesitantly. Sure, the boys have stayed in some pretty horrible places – if he never sees another dolphin again, it'll be too soon – but the state of this one takes the cake. The carpet is dark, – he isn't sure what the original color is supposed to be – he thinks probably due to all the questionable stains that litter it. The walls aren't much better and Gabriel is positive he doesn't want to see the room when the lights are on.

He turns at the sound of Sam cursing – and Gabriel almost sighs, thinking they'd finally gotten past Sam's complete dislike of him – only to find that apparently he doesn't have to worry about seeing the room lit up (and that thankfully the youngest Winchester isn't cursing Gabriel's presence this time around). Sam is flipping the light switch up and down repeatedly, each flick a bit more forceful than the last. A quick look around the room confirms it: several bulbs are missing and the ones still in place have burned out.

When it seems like Sam has given up on the lights Gabriel doesn't even think before bringing his hand up and snapping. It isn't even a conscious decision, but what's done is done. Soft light fills the room as bulbs magically appear in place. Gabriel looks around again – he was right, the place is even worse than he'd thought – and his eyes fall on Sam. The youngest Winchester is wearing an unfamiliar expression as he stares at Gabriel, but it's gone and Sam is closing the door behind him and heading towards his bed before Gabriel can figure out what that look meant. But when Sam looks up at him from his bed, smiling, and thanks the archangel for the lights, Gabriel figures whatever it meant probably isn't something he needs to worry about.

Sam's shuffling through the papers scattered across the rickety table in their motel room. He apologized to Dean the day before, so they've been doing research on the last of the Horsemen they have to deal with. Dean's reading through a couple new books they got from Bobby on his bed, with Castiel sitting next to him trying to look casual, Sam thinks – it would probably work better if his back wasn't ramrod straight, but Sam's not going to be the one to tell him – and Gabriel sits on the other side of the table munching on some sour belt candy while Sam's been skimming through page after page of papers. After what's felt like forever, Sam's found something that he thinks might be useful in their search. Unfortunately, he can't find anything to write it down in his notebook with.

He sits back in his squeaking chair and sighs. Just as he's turning to ask Dean where he's hidden their writing implements from him, Sam feels something being pushed into his hand. When he turns back he sees that he's holding a pen. It's not one of their usual ones, considering how sparkly it is – Dean wouldn't be caught dead using a bright blue glittery pen – but it writes in smooth black ink and is exactly what Sam needed. Those damn butterflies are working their way through his gut again and he grins at Gabriel who just shrugs like it's no big deal. And maybe it isn't, but that doesn't seem to be able to stop the odd fluttering in Sam's chest.

Another Horseman down and Sam is ready to just sleep for the rest of the week. He's tired and sore and has the motel room to himself for the night as Dean opted for staying alone with Castiel for the night. It doesn't bother Sam now as much as it would have only a few weeks ago. Once he finally got over the jealousy that rushed through him whenever his brother went off on his own, Sam could see just how much his brother needed Castiel, needed the time they spent together. So really, Sam is more than fine with tonight's arrangement.

The lone bed looks a bit strange (though no less inviting) when he's so used to being in a double. But before Sam can let himself think about burrowing under the blankets he needs a shower. Being stuck in the car all day with his brother after taking down a horseman is not conducive to feeling fresh as a daisy. So with one last longing look at the bed in the middle of the room, Sam walks past it and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself before the temptation of sleep becomes too great.

The warm water did wonders for his tense muscles but as Sam steps out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, he can still feel the pull of some of the sorer ones and can't wait to just fall into the bed and not get up again for as long as possible. Of course, the archangel currently lounging in the middle of the mattress munching on yet another candy bar could make that a bit of an impossibilty. Sam rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitch up at the image before him.

"Do _not_ get any crumbs on my bed, Gabriel," he says, jabbing his finger in Gabriel's direction before turning his attention to grabbing sleep clothes from his duffle. Sam grabs up a new pair of boxers and slips them on under the towel - he and Gabriel seem to be stuck in a never-ending teasing stage of their _whatever-this-is_ relationship and Sam can give and good as he gets. Sam would probably try to come up with another possible tease, but sleeping and getting to ignore the tension in his muscles sounds a lot more appealing than flirting with an Archangel. He lays down on the bed and doesn't pay Gabriel any mind as he tries to find a comfortable position to lay in when half of the bed is taken and his muscles are working against him.

He finally finds a position that seems to stave off the worst of his body's aches and stretches for a moment before closing his eyes to try and fall asleep. Sam is on his stomach, and were he not so exhausted he might have worried about his current arrangement with Gabriel laying right beside him, but Sam isn't really thinking about anything at the moment.

Sam feels the bed shift slightly as Gabriel seems to be unable to find a position for himself. He doesn't think much of it until warm hands are pressing into his bare back, gently massaging their way up to his shoulders and down to the small of his back. It takes Sam longer than it probably should to do something more than relax into the touch.

"What're ya doin'?" he slurs, unable to gain full control of his ability to speak when all the tension in his body is being slowly massaged away.

"You know, you really shouldn't slouch Sasquatch. Not good for your back..." Gabriel says, completely disregarding Sam's question. And really, Sam should be upset, or something, about being ignored, but he can't bring himself to care. It feels really good to be taken care of again and he doesn't ask anything more. He swears he can feel a light press of lips to the nape of his neck before sleep takes him (and there are those damn butterflies in his gut again), but he's sure it was just his imagination.

Sam tries not to overthink whatever is going on between him and Gabriel. They'd been flirting with each other since Gabriel gave him that banana split and it's been nice. The massage he'd gotten was also nice. The problem is that Sam doesn't really know what's going on. Because he's finally started trusting the Archangel and that more than anything else should be unsettling, but it isn't. Sam finds that he isn't worried about any of it at all, and that's what he's trying not to think too much on.

And he really should probably be freaking out a bit more than he is at the sight of Gabriel laying in his bed - the separate rooms have become a regular thing - on top of sheets that seem to change slightly in color every so often. But all he can think is that Gabriel looks really good in those bright red boxers and white tank top.

Sam doesn't waste any time in stripping down to his boxers. He would like to say he had an excuse, like it's too hot to sleep with his shirt on or something, but Sam just really wants to know what those sheets would feel like against his skin. And he really doubts Gabriel has a problem sharing.

He slips onto the bed at Gabriel's right, both laying on their sides to face each other, and gets a look at the sheets - that feel as amazing against him as he thought they would - up close. They really do change slightly in color; a deep green that alternately mixes with a familiar blue and as he lifts his head to look at Gabriel his eyes widen slightly.

"You really are a sap, you know that right?" he asks with a wide, dimpled grin.

Gabriel just rolls his eyes and smirks, "What makes you say that, Sammy?"

"Well, I could be imagining things, but I'm pretty sure the color of these sheets is familiar for a reason. What do you think?" Sam shifts his body closer to Gabriel's, eyes drawn once more to the sheets underneath them as he waits for a response.

The bed shifts as Gabriel moves closer. Sam looks up, determined to ignore their nearness until he gets an answer.

"So what if it is?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders casually and rests his hand on Gabriel's waist, thumb tracing light circles on a sliver of exposed skin there. He's caught slightly off-guard when all of a sudden he finds himself on his back with Gabriel smiling, straddling him. He can't help but return the smile as his hands drift up to grip loosely at the angel's waist.

Before Sam knows it, Gabriel's holding a small mirror over him - and Sam isn't sure whether the angel didn't snap or the blood rushing in his ears blocked the sound out - and he's looking at his own eyes, that he doesn't stop from rolling at Gabriel's antics. Because really? The archangel can't just come out and _say_ that he mojo'd the sheets to match Sam's eyes?

"I promise I won't laugh at you _too_ hard if you say something that proves just how sappy you really are," he says as the mirror pops right back out of existance.

Gabriel's smirk is back full force and he looks as cocky as ever as he speaks, "Pfft, me? Sappy? I think you've got a few screws loose, Winchester. I am the _least_ sappy person you'll ever meet."

Sam snorts softly, "Sure, Gabriel. Not sappy at all. Especially not when you do things like snapping up ice cream and bright sparkly - "

Sam's words cut off on a groan as Gabriel grinds against him _just right_ and he loses the ability to speak for a moment. When he looks up at the angel again, Gabriel's smirk has morphed into a real smile and Sam swallows thickly, "We're really doing this, huh?"

"You bet your ass we are, Winchester. I don't break out the satin sheets for just _anybody_," Gabriel replies before grinding down on him again. Sam finds he's more than fine with ending their verbal teasing if it means feeling Gabriel's chest resting on top of his, hands smoothing over his arms, up his shoulders and neck, combing through his hair; all while they continue rubbing against each other like a couple of teenagers.

He rolls his hips up, matching the rythym Gabriel set. Sam slides his hands down and grips Gabriel's ass through his boxers, kneading the flesh and pressing the angel more firmly against himself. Their lips crash together, Sam's mouth immediately opening at the first touch of Gabriel's questing tongue and they swallow down each other's moans.

Sam can feel when Gabriel's rhythym starts to stutter, at the same time as heat starts too pool low in his belly and he knows neither of them will last much longer. His hands find the angel's hips and grip as if his life depends on it. Their pants and moans fill the air around them and Sam comes with Gabriel's name on his lips, hands tightening enough to leave bruises were Gabriel human.

Gabriel barely grinds against him again before the angel is coming, gasping Sam's name and Sam smiles at the sound and at the extra weight of Gabriel collapsing over top of him. It feels good, even though they're both slick with come and sweat, it's nice to have the angel's weight pressing down comfortably on him. Even nicer when he feels Gabriel's smile against his neck when they've both caught their breath.

Eventually, there's a snap of fingers and Sam and Gabriel are both clean, as though they'd never done anything more than lay on the sheets together. Suddenly, Gabriel rolls off of him, but before Sam has a chance to miss the warmth and weight of the angel he's being pulled up and he smiles as he rests his head against Gabriel's chest. They're both silent for a long time; Sam tracing random patterns along Gabriel's stomach and up his chest and back down again slowly as the angel plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Sam can feel the smooth vibrations of Gabriel's words as he speaks, a smile evident in the angel's voice, "So, what won you over? The ice cream, the song and dance, or the sheets?"

He huffs a short laugh and lifts his head up to look at Gabriel, "None of the above."

"Then what - ?"

Sam cuts Gabriel off with a soft kiss and pulls back, lips turned up in a shy smile.

"You changed the light bulbs."

Gabriel's looking at him like he's grown another head for a long moment before the angel bursts into laughter. Sam wants to at least _pretend_ to be offended but it's a lost cause and he joins in until they're lying against each other trying to catch their breath, again. Sam looks up at Gabriel, water in the corners of his eyes from laughter, when the angel speaks.

"You know, I've got you, but I don't _get_ you, Winchester."

Sam grins wide and thinks his face will probably start hurting soon with all the smiling he's been doing before leaning forward for another kiss.

"You can figure me out later. Right now, there are _way_ more interesting things we could be doing."

Gabriel still doesn't understand humans. Or Winchesters. But he's got Sam now. And he doesn't really need to understand humans to know how much fun it will be to see Dean's reaction when he finds them making out in the back seat of the Impala.


End file.
